


The Colour Of You

by Darkrivertempest



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blind Character, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 13:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkrivertempest/pseuds/Darkrivertempest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the colours in the spectrum, Remus loves this one the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Colour Of You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2010 April Snupin Showers on the LJ community, Lupin_Snape. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters and canon Potter Verse belong to JK Rowling and associates. I am in no way affiliated with Warner Brothers, JK Rowling, or Scholastic. I do not make any money from the publishing or writing of this story.
> 
> Many thanks to my betas: Sotia and IBE!

“Do you know what I miss most, Severus?” Remus mused idly. 

A grunt was all he heard, but the werewolf still understood what the other meant. “Colours,” he answered on a sigh. “I miss the colours of this world.”

Severus Snape and Remus Lupin sat underneath a willow tree that hedged the Black Lake on Hogwarts school grounds. It was towards the end of April and the breeze was warm, inviting, and laden with the scent of blossoming flowers.

~*~

Ten years had passed since the end of the war, and not a day went by that Remus didn’t thank the powers-that-be for having spared his life, considering that things could have been much worse. He didn’t even begrudge being blind as a side-effect of the Killing Curse; he could have been very dead instead. 

Yet another benefit to being a werewolf, Avada Kedavra only forced the human body into a state of unconsciousness until the damage could be repaired. He’d lain in a coma at St. Mungos for three months before he’d awoken and, even then, he’d seen only blackness. Gradually, over the years, he began to see shadows, but nothing beyond that. It was different with his monthly changes, the wolf’s eyes being much clearer, but still the night held only darkness except for the bright, white moon. 

Upon discovering the fate of those who’d been there with him for the last fight, he’d expressed deep and heartfelt regret for the loss of Fred Weasley and Tonks. That regret hadn’t meant he’d had any second thoughts about refusing to get into a relationship with the girl. Even had she not been much too young and flighty for his tastes, she still hadn’t been his type—not remotely. Though he’d liked her well enough as a person, found her charming and enjoyed her company, he happened to be gay and had tried on several occasions to tell her so. She just hadn’t seemed to come to terms with that fact. What had shocked him most during that time had been a conversation he’d overheard, between her and Molly Weasley, on the possibilities of ‘converting’ him back to the right side. Even now he shuddered to think about it. 

When he’d woken up in St. Mungos, he’d been able to hear someone else breathing steadily in the room. After asking the nurse who his roommate was, he’d been shocked to learn that it was none other than Severus Snape himself. It had been several days before Remus had been able to sit up, but once he’d managed, he’d stumbled his way over and sat on the edge of Snape’s bed, hesitantly touching the object of his fascination since returning to Hogwarts four years prior, finding his arm too thin to be healthy. He never let on to the Potions master that he’d found him greatly changed from the last time he clapped eyes on him, which had been sometime just after graduation. It had been enough to study him from afar, knowing if he even dropped a hint that he was interested in the dark wizard, he would be outted as a Dark Creature before he could finish swallowing his Wolfsbane potion. 

While Snape slept, Remus took to sitting by his bed, telling him stories of his life, the Marauders’ lives, and anything of consequence... anything to stay close and hear the inhale and exhale of breath from Severus’ lungs to confirm he lived. 

When he’d finally woken, Snape had had no voice with which to speak, his vocal cords having been badly damaged. That setback hadn’t slowed him down, however, as he’d promptly thrown a bedpan at Lupin when he’d first glimpsed him perched nearby. Of course, being blind, Remus hadn’t duck, and to this day, still sported a thin scar near his hairline where it’d hit him in the head. 

Remus had been nothing if not tenacious afterwards. He would assume his usual position in a chair off to Severus’ right whenever the therapists would come to assist the dour wizard, chatting companionably while they helped him work his muscles and produce some semblance of speech. He’d done it more to keep Snape’s mind off of what was happening to him—and spare the staff his notorious rage due to being pawed at—finally coming to understand the inflections, grunts, and snarls towards the end of his stay at St. Mungo’s. Lupin had been let go several weeks prior, but he’d come back daily with Harry’s help to check on Severus’ progress, earning an object thrown at him in return like clockwork every time he’d walked into the ward. After the bedpan incident, the items had become increasingly smaller and lighter. The second day had produced a bedside lamp being hurtled at him, striking him in the stomach since he’d been in the middle of sitting down when Snape had thrown it. 

The third day, Severus had chucked his bowl of porridge _after_ Remus had been seated, wheezing with weak laughter as the runny oat mixture had slid down the werewolf’s face and onto his lap. Lupin had calmly wiped it off... with Snape’s bed sheet. There had been growls of annoyance, but Remus had just smiled in what he’d hoped was the Potions master’s direction.

When Remus had sat in the chair during his fourth visit, he’d immediately jumped back up, patting his backside. Feeling around on the seat, he’d realised that the cushion had been removed and the coiled springs exposed. Instead of admonishing Snape, he’d asked the nursing staff for another chair, sitting comfortably once it had been retrieved. 

By the time two weeks had passed in that fashion, Severus had greeted Remus with a pillow thrown at his person. Lupin had commented that Snape had been wearing down sooner than anticipated and had got a book tossed at him for his trouble. 

When Snape was finally released from the hospital, he’d found his home had been destroyed and he’d had nowhere to go, unsure of how he would be welcome in the Wizarding world and uncomfortable in the Muggle. Harry had invited him to stay with him and Remus at Grimmauld Place until he made a full recovery. Of course, Severus had vehemently opposed that option, though he hadn’t been able to voice his opinion as to why. In the end, it had been a pleading look that Remus hadn’t known he’d been transmitting through his cloudy eyes that had convinced the dour wizard to remain with them, as it really hadn’t been safe for him any other place until his fate could be determined.

Some months later, after having been cleared of all charges, Severus had indicated that he wished to be alone for the evening. Harry had hesitantly agreed, and Remus had only given a half-hearted answer of ‘sure’. Hours later, near midnight, the werewolf had smelled salty tears wafting from the kitchen area, and he’d silently made his way to the door, having familiarized himself with the layout of Sirius’ old house years ago. Pushing open the swing-door, he’d heard Severus sobbing softly.

It’d flooded him with grief, and, compelled to comfort the man, he’d felt his way to the kitchen table, and sat once again off to Severus’ right. He hadn’t been acknowledged, but then he hadn’t expected to be. Instead, Remus had sat in what he’d assumed to be a darkened room and listened to the man weep for a multitude of things. When he’d heard Severus shift in his seat, Remus had slowly reached out to touch him, his hand falling on top of the other’s bowed head. That had caused Severus’ sobs to start anew, and it had broken Remus’ heart all over again. Without removing his hand, Remus had scooted his chair around until he was sitting right next to his old schoolmate, and had pulled him into a crushing embrace. Snape had resisted at first, but had then wrapped his long, skinny arms around the werewolf in an equally fierce hug. 

He’d then grunted the first words he’d said in almost a year.

“I’m... sorry.”

It had stunned them both, but Remus had assured him it was okay, and that he too was sorry for not believing completely in the man. Pressing a kiss to Severus’ temple, he’d said that it was late and that they both needed sleep. When Lupin had risen, Snape had clasped his wrist and squeezed gently, asking for something unknown. Remus had seemed to know what he wanted, however, and had pulled him to ascend the stairs to the bedrooms. Once ensconced in Remus’ room, they’d settled on the bed, Lupin curled behind Severus and holding his thin frame protectively. Neither one had slept alone again.

As the years passed, Snape had been offered the Potions position once more by McGonagall, who’d said she’d had a ghastly time finding a competent professor who wouldn’t blow themselves up, let alone the students. He’d accepted and surprisingly demanded that Remus help him as his vocal capabilities hadn’t returned to anywhere near their usual capacity. He’d argued that Lupin could smell the addition of an incorrect ingredient long before he could shout at the student. Plus, it would provide Remus with work, as the werewolf had been getting twitchy being idle. Minerva had agreed and the pair had soon become the most highly esteemed professors at Hogwarts, even after Severus had regained full use of his voice.

~*~

“I have researched extensively on how to reverse the blindness, Remus, but—”

“Severus, you realise this is not your fault, right?” He wanted to kick himself for speaking without thinking. He hated referring to his sightless eyes, as Snape took it personally that he was blind. “I am used to it, honestly.”

“Then why do you miss colours?”

“I just do.” He shrugged. “I guess my memory of what those colours were like is fading.”

“Hold out your hand,” Severus ordered.

Doing as asked, Lupin felt his hand soon filled with something cold and liquid, though it didn’t spill through his fingers. He smiled. “What is this?”

“That is the colour blue. It is cool and minty. Refreshing and ever changing.”

Tears clogged Remus’ throat. “I-I see it.” The item in his hand changed to something rather large and fragrant.

“This is yellow: bright, loud, fulfilling, and tart.”

Because the object was so large, Remus had to hold it with both hands. He ran the tips of his fingers over the item, coming to the conclusion that it was a... “Sunflower!” he cried. He brought the petals to his nose and inhaled the rich and indeed sweet scent that reminded him of summer. 

“You might want to remove your hands from your nose for the next one,” Snape said in warning. “This is red: passionate, spicy, hot, and turbulent.”

A pungent aroma filled the air as the weight of the sunflower disappeared to be replaced by something small. Closing his hand, Remus felt a curved and crinkly item on his palm. “What is this?” he asked, touching it all over. “I don’t think I’ve ever come across something like this.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Severus lowered Lupin’s hand when he moved to smell it. “That is a Cayenne pepper and is used as a spice in some stews or marinades. It is native to Mexico and a member of the Nightshade family.”

“Can we try a dish made with this sometime?”

“Possibly.” The pepper was turned into something even lighter and flat. “This is green: inviting though bitter, nurturing—a sharp or soft colour that represents growth.”

Remus brushed his fingers across what he determined was a leaf. The texture was soft, as Severus had said, but the ends were sharp as well, defining the contours of the plant it came from. “It reminds me of spring,” he said, quirking a smile. The leaf lengthened out and changed in flexibility.

“This is purple: velvety, mysterious, regal, and succulent.”

Running his fingers one way on the piece of cloth produced a smooth sensation, but if Remus moved his digits in the opposite direction, the fabric resisted and created a bristling effect. “Twilight is like this,” he murmured, continuing to rub his palm back and forth over the velvet. 

“Your fur feels like this,” Snape admitted. 

“Truly?” 

It had taken about a year before Severus was comfortable around Remus in his transformed state, but with additional tweaking of the Wolfsbane potion there was really nothing for him to fear anymore. “Yes.” The cloth was gone, replaced by something dimpled and round. “Orange: tangy, blazing, cleansing, and fresh.”

The sandy-blond wizard brought the orange to his nose and inhaled deeply. “This reminds me of my grandmother’s citrus grove. She loved using the oil to scour pots and pans.”

The orange shrank into an oblong shape. “This is white: stark, barren, hard, and bland.”

Remus smelled nothing but a hint of protein as he felt the foreign object. “I’m not sure what this—”

“An egg or, if you will, your moon.” 

“Ah, yes.” Lupin nodded in agreement. “The moon. It’s always there.”

The egg suddenly changed into something... fuzzy? “Pink: soft, comforting, sweet, and affectionate.”

Burying his face in the material, Remus hummed his appreciation. “What is this? It’s delightful!”

Snape tried to stifle a snort, but it was in vain. “Your house slippers.”

Throwing his head back, Lupin let out a bark of laughter. “No wonder I love them!”

Fuzziness soon gave way to something that crumbled. “Now for brown: gritty, solid, rich, and savoury.”

Sifting through the contents resting on his palm, Remus smelled several scents. “Coffee? And... tea!” Though he couldn’t see, he closed his eyes and inhaled. “Earl Grey, I believe.” There was another scent that was earthy. “Dirt?”

Severus made the mess vanish. “Yes to all three.” 

“What’s next?” Remus asked when no other object made an appearance. 

There was a long pause. “Black,” Snape muttered. “You already know that colour as you see it every time you open your lids.”

“I beg to differ.” Reaching out his right hand, Remus flailed until it came to rest on Severus’ knee. “I see grey now, shadows mostly.” Finding Snape’s hand, he tugged on it until they were very close. “But I want to show _you_ that colour.”

Snape was about to protest that he knew very well what ‘black’ was—he was wearing it. What he wasn’t prepared for was the back of Remus’ knuckles caressing his cheek. 

“Black is the colour of my lover’s hair, the inky darkness that is a combination of all colours. It is the colour of his eyes that can devour a man’s soul at fifty paces, yet contain the whole of my world.” He leaned his forehead against Snape’s. “It is the smell of liquorice root upon his breath, that bitter taste after a cup of coffee, the heavy sweetness of treacle.

“It is the emptiness of my soul if he were to ever leave or choose another. It is the cloak he wraps me in at night to make me feel safe and secure, guarding me from the terrors of the past. It is his caress upon my neck, telling me that it is his favourite place to nibble on my skin.” 

Taking Snape’s hands in his, he pressed his lips to them. “Of all the colours you have brought to life for me today, Severus, black is the most precious.”

Swallowing thickly, he whispered, “Why?”

The smile on Remus’ face would forever stay with him. “Because it is the colour of you.”


End file.
